


Survival

by HixyStix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: And there was only one Tent, First Aid, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Planet Hoth is Cold (Star Wars), some description of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: Being attacked by a wampa and getting stranded while on patrol hadn’t been in Zeb and Kallus’s plans, but they’re adaptable.  They’ve done this ‘cuddling for warmth’ thing before, after all.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 24
Kudos: 121
Collections: Kalluzeb Secret Holiday Exchange 2020





	Survival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nefariosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefariosity/gifts).



> Happy Holidays!

Before either of them knew it was there, the wampa attacked. By the time Zeb noticed, it was too late: Kallus had been yanked off his tauntaun, yelps cut off when he thumped to the snowy ground.

The tauntaun shrieked as the wampa clawed at it, leaving Kallus on the ground, more stunned than actually hurt. Zeb thanked the Ashla Kallus was wearing his long coat; the thick synthleather had protected him from the wampa’s initial attack.

Even if Kallus was safe for the moment, Zeb wasn’t going to let the wampa anywhere near his lover again. “Sasha!” he called as he leapt off his own mount. His tauntaun pulled the reins from his grip and ran as far and as fast as it could. “Sasha! Are you okay?”

Too focused to reply, Kallus’s eyes were locked onto the wampa as he tried to scramble back toward Zeb.

Zeb wasn’t sure if it was Kallus or himself that caught the wampa’s attention, but as soon as Kallus’s tauntaun was dead, the wampa turned its attention on them.

Hurriedly, Zeb tried to help Kallus to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough: the wampa struck at Kallus again, catching him across the stomach. Thick claws tore his coat open, buttons popping off and red splashed across the thickly packed Hoth snow.

It wasn’t immediately clear if the blood was from the tauntaun or from Kallus, but it didn’t matter. The wampa was attacking Kallus and Zeb was _not_ going to stand for that.

He did some quick calculations in his head. He was about the same size as the wampa. His claws weren’t as long as the wampa’s but surely they were just as sharp. He had prehensile feet and the wampa didn’t. And he was at least as motivated to drive off the wampa as the wampa was to find food.

The math added up.

With a roar of his own, Zeb leapt forward, claws out, and tackled the wampa. Catching it in its stomach, he knocked it to the ground, grabbing on with hands and feet both. He extended his claws, tearing through the gloves and socks he’d been given to wear, and fended off the wampa’s retaliatory attacks.

“We’re not your lunch!” he yelled, trying to rip through the wampa’s thick skin and fur.

“Zeb, roll over!”

Reacting instinctively to Kallus’s command, Zeb rolled, pulling the wampa on top of him so it wouldn’t get away. The hiss of a blaster bolt sounded over the roaring winds and Zeb smelled burnt fur.

The wampa howled in pain but it didn’t stop. An arm broke loose and caught Zeb across the face – the one part of him unprotected from cold and claws. Blood trickled down his cheeks, freezing uncomfortably to his fur. The sharp pain – made worse by the frigid temperatures – distracted him just enough that the wampa cut him again, a long stripe of clawmarks from his shoulder to his chest.

Another blaster bolt sounded. Zeb wished he had his bo-rifle handy, but Hoth’s harsh environs were too much for it. He was lucky if he could get the blaster function to work, much less the electrostaff.

The roars of the wampa disappeared into the wind, but it appeared Kallus’s last attack had actually wounded it. It moved slower as it tried to break out of Zeb’s grip and turn on Kallus.

Zeb was _not_ going to let that happen. He clamped down with his hands, putting one foot to use tearing at the wampa’s stomach.

Blood spilled out and the wampa’s roar became a pained cry. It struggled to get away but Zeb held on, still clawing at it, knowing he was getting soaked in the beast’s blood, but also knowing he was the only thing keeping it from attacking Kallus again.

The wampa’s cries weakened and it stopped fighting, collapsing atop Zeb. Over the beast’s shoulder, Zeb saw Kallus. The human stood there, blaster still raised, terrified look still on his face.

“Is it dead?”

Zeb pushed the wampa up and off him, rolling it onto its back. Where the wampa’s stomach had been was now…

Well, it was a mess, just like Zeb was.

“Looks like,” he answered. To check, he hauled back and punched the wampa in the side.

No reaction.

“Even if it is,” Kallus reasoned, and Zeb got the feeling he was trying to reassure himself, “it won’t be able to attack us again for a while.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to head back to base and tell them this area’s unsafe. If there’s one of these creatures, there might be more,” Zeb said, climbing shakily to his feet.

“Your tauntaun fled and mine is dead. We aren’t making it back to base, Zeb.”

Zeb frowned. He wasn’t ready to be that pessimistic. He pointed to the dead tauntaun, still loaded with Kallus’s gear. “We’ve got a survival tent, a heater, and a beacon. They’ll find us.”

Kallus didn’t look convinced.

* * *

Thirty minutes and three annoying ‘aren’t you glad this isn’t Bahryn’ comments later, Kallus tacked the last corner of the survival tent into the ice.

He only admired his work for a moment. They’d hiked a ways away from the dead animals, just in case Zeb had been right about there being more wampas, and Zeb was looking tired. He’d stopped talking so much, leading Kallus to think the wounds on his face were hurting worse than the lasat would admit.

“Into the tent, Zeb,” he instructed, sticking his hands back in the pockets of his long coat. Even with thick protective clothing, Hoth’s cold snuck into his bones – particularly his right femur. The hairline fracture had healed well enough, or so Kallus had thought before the Rebellion settled on Hoth. Anytime they pulled scout duty, his leg ended up aching for at least the next two days.

Somewhat surprisingly, Zeb didn’t argue. Kallus held the tent flap open and Zeb entered, crouched and carrying the rest of their supplies with them. Kallus crawled into the tent and sealed the flap behind him.

Zeb started working on the heater, muttering to himself.

Kallus, on the other hand, picked through the supplies, sorting out what they had.

A day’s worth of rations to be split between them, some glowrods, the signal beacon, and a basic first aid kit.

Kallus softened his voice, though he still had to speak loudly to be heard over the wind outside. “Zeb, let me look at you.”

“You can look all you want,” Zeb said, one side of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Want me to pose?”

Grabbing the first aid kit, Kallus crawled to sit on his knees in front of his lover. “You’re incorrigible. I mean let me take care of your face.”

“Ah,” Zeb said, side-eying the first aid kit warily. “Thought you might mean that.”

Kallus reached out and traced his thumb lightly along one of the lacerations. It stretched from just underneath Zeb’s eye to his upper lip and caused Zeb to hiss at Kallus’s touch. “It’s going to get infected if you don’t let me take care of you. There’s no telling what was on that beast’s claws.”

It was the silliest thing, he thought. Zeb was the strongest warrior Kallus knew and yet the lasat _hated_ the sting of sanitizer and the feeling of bacta in his fur. He would do physical and verbal gymnastics to avoid a trip to the medbay for even the simplest of wounds – but Kallus was determined not to let Zeb get the better of him on this topic.

They stared at each other, unblinking.

Zeb relented first, looking down at the kit again. “You’re gonna bug me about it, aren’t you?”

“I promise I will be most insufferable if you don’t let me clean those cuts.”

With a belabored sigh, Zeb shrunk down. “Fine. Do what you gotta.”

“Thank you,” Kallus said, lifting up on his knees just far enough to kiss Zeb’s other cheek. He dug in the kit and pulled out antiseptic wipes. With the heater running, he dared to take off his gloves and clean his own hands first. Using a second wipe, he dabbed at Zeb’s face, cleaning blood and fur out of the gashes.

Zeb hissed again, sharper and louder, and Kallus could see he was gripping his knees tight in an attempt not to push Kallus away.

“Garazeb Orrelios,” Kallus murmured, smiling. “Fearsome warrior, beast killer, and total baby when it comes to antiseptic.”

“Shut up,” mumbled Zeb back, though he smiled a little, too.

It took Kallus all the wipes in the kit to disinfect Zeb’s wounds. He felt a little bad for how uncomfortable it made Zeb, but not bad enough to stop.

“I thought it got you,” Zeb said quietly, while Kallus worked.

“Just my coat,” Kallus reassured him. “Aren’t you glad I bought it last time we were on a decent planet?”

Zeb fingered the seams where buttons had been torn off. “Yes,” he said. “Very glad.”

Kallus glanced down and noticed the state of Zeb’s hands and feet – gloves and socks destroyed and blood-soaked along with his claws. He needed to get those off Zeb, but would it be too cold for the lasat without them?

That was a question for later, however.

Kallus gently dabbed sticky bacta gel on the cuts, layering it on thickly. As long as Zeb didn’t touch his cheek, the gel shouldn’t work itself into his fur.

Of course, as soon as Kallus looked away, Zeb reached up to feel his face. Kallus swatted his hand away. “No, Zeb. Just let it work.”

“It stings,” he pouted, that large lower lip even more pronounced.

Kallus managed not to laugh. “It’s supposed to. Let it work,” he repeated.

Zeb put his hands back on his knees. 

Checking the dexterity and warmth of his own bare fingers, Kallus decided it probably wouldn’t hurt Zeb to lose his gloves and socks. First, though…

Kallus checked the rations pack and found a small camp stove – exactly what he was looking for. While Zeb watched him, he opened the door flap long enough to pack the small pot with snow and ice. 

Lighting the stove in the tent wasn’t the wisest option, but it was their only real option, so Kallus left a few centimeters of flap open in the hopes it would vent well enough.

Despite the heat of the stove, it still took the snow a while to melt in the pot. Soon enough, though, the water boiled.

“Off with your gloves,” Kallus instructed. “And socks. Once they’re clean, we’ll do this again with your coat.”

“You know they’re just gonna freeze solid when you take ‘em out of the pot,” Zeb said, though he complied with Kallus’s request.

“That’s what the heater is for.” Kallus used a wooden finger splint from the first aid kit to push Zeb’s dirtied gloves into the water. He wished he had a detergent of some sort, but boiling them would have to do.

Kallus repeated the process – pack the pot with snow, melt and boil, wash more of Zeb’s clothing – until the lasat was down to his jumpsuit.

“Now _this_ really brings back memories,” Zeb joked, rubbing his arms in an attempt to stay warm.

“Come here,” Kallus said, unfolding a crinkly metallic blanket. “This is big enough for two humans so it should cover you.”

Zeb scooted around the heater to sit at Kallus’s side. “What about you?” he asked, real concern in his voice. “Sasha, we can share.”

Kallus leaned against Zeb’s shoulder briefly. “I’m fine with the heater for now. But when we sleep, we’ll share it. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” Zeb answered. He yawned. “That better be soon.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kallus said. “Battle of any sort is exhausting. If you want to, go ahead and sleep, Zeb.”

Nodding, Zeb huddled under the survival blanket, but he didn’t close his eyes right away, Kallus noticed. Instead, he watched Kallus work on cleaning as much as he could, including Zeb’s claws. Since the lasat wasn’t sleeping, Kallus kissed each finger and toe after he cleaned it, murmuring a soft ‘I love you’ when he was done.

Zeb hummed sleepily. “Come to bed, Sasha.”

“Only if you promise we won’t elbow each other when we wake up,” Kallus said with a smile.

“Think I can promise that,” Zeb said, holding the survival blanket open enough for Kallus to slide underneath

Kallus pulled Zeb close, amazed at how warm the lasat was with the blanket’s help. Soon he was equally warm, snuggled against Zeb’s back, and he could almost believe they were together on one of the _Ghost_ ’s stiff beds.

* * *

The crackling of their radios woke Zeb in the morning.

 _“Captain Orrelios, do you copy? Captain Kallus, do you copy?_ ”

Zeb recognized that voice. It was former Phoenix Squadron pilot Hobbie Klivian. Good kid, if a bit pessimistic. He should answer the kid’s hails.

The problem was that the radios were on the other side of the tent, their heater had died out, and Zeb was warm under the blanket with Kallus. His arms were long, but not _that_ long.

“Better answer that,” Kallus mumbled. “I’ll get it.”

“I will,” Zeb said. “I need to get dressed again anyway.”

Despite Zeb’s best efforts, he let in cold air when he crawled out from under the blanket, making Kallus shiver.

Zeb checked his clothing; they’d left it all by the heater overnight and it seemed to be dry, if cold. He could live with that. Pulling his coat on, he used his foot to snag the radio. “We’re here, Hobbie,” he said. “Just follow our beacon.”

“We’re almost there,” Hobbie said.

 _‘We?’_ Kallus mouthed at Zeb, who shrugged. He had no way of knowing who Hobbie meant.

“Great,” Zeb said, activating the radio again. “We’re waiting on you.”

Kallus got to his knees and handed Zeb the blanket. “Here, you need this more than I do.”

Zeb gave him a look. “Which of us has fur?”

“Which of us was attacked by that snow beast last night?” Kallus countered. “Take the blanket, Zeb.”

Outside, the sound of snowspeeders came closer, ending in the hum of repulsorlifts as the ships set down.

Only then did Zeb and Kallus emerge from their tent, finding Hobbie and another young pilot – Wes, Zeb thought – climbing out of two separate snowspeeders.

“Think you can fit in one of these?” Hobbie called over the sound of the engines. “They’ve got gunner seats in the back.”

Zeb shrugged. “Worth a try. Can I shoot any more of those beasts if we see them?”

“Beasts?” Wes looked around.

“We’ll tell you about them while you fly us back to base,” Kallus said. “I don’t know about Zeb, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

Hobbie waved him over. “Come on then, Captain Kallus.”

Kallus started to walk away, but Zeb grabbed his hand, pulling him in close so he could give him a soft kiss. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Running a finger beneath the nearly-healed cuts, Kallus gave a small smile. “Thank you for letting me.”

“I’ll thank you properly back on the _Ghost_ ,” Zeb promised.

Hobbie cleared his throat. “Better hurry or we’re all gonna need that blanket.”

Zeb scowled. “Hobbie, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a lasat talking to his mate?”

 _Mate_. He hadn’t meant to say that yet, hadn’t asked Kallus if he’d even want to be mated to him.

Too late to take it back, though.

Kallus quirked an eyebrow. “Mate?” he said. “You haven’t called me that before.”

“Well, yeah,” Zeb said. “Been meaning to. If you want.”

“Garazeb Orrelios, you have the _worst_ timing,” Kallus sighed. “Asking me to be your mate while we’re out here in the middle of the freezing cold.”

“It’s like Bahryn. Doesn’t it make it romantic?” Zeb tried.

The look Kallus gave him was a very solid ‘no’.

Zeb grinned again. “So is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes,” Kallus said, arms crossed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“So, uh, are congratulations in order?” Hobbie asked. “Maybe we can say them _back at base_?”

Zeb laughed. “Back at base, yes.”

“Finally,” muttered Hobbie. The young pilot beckoned Kallus to join him.

Zeb approached Wes, who looked a little intimidated. “Don’t worry, kid,” Zeb said. “I only bite the people I don’t like.”

“O– oh, okay,” Wes said. “That’s good.”

“It’s very good.” Zeb helped the much shorter Wes into the snowspeeder before squeezing into the gunner’s seat and putting on an uncomfortable headset. “You’re saving my life. Lasat don’t go in for life debts like wookiees, but we do remember people who are good to us.”

The canopy closed and Zeb watched Kallus get settled in behind Hobbie.

“Get us both back to base and I’ll getcha something special next mission we take to a decent planet,” Zeb promised.

“So, uh, you and Captain Kallus?”

Zeb chuckled. “You mean to say you didn’t already know? Thought we were part of base gossip.”

“You are,” Wes said, but quickly shut his mouth as if he shouldn’t have said that.

“It’s fine, kid,” Zeb said, watching the snowy landscape pass them by as they flew back to base. “Yeah, me ‘n’ him. For as long as he’ll put up with me. And then some.”

 _“That’s nice of you to say_ ,” Kallus’s voice said in his ear.

Zeb’s eyes widened in surprise. “Didn’t know you were listening.”

“ _When you’re talking? I almost always listen._ ”

“Almost?” Zeb grinned.

“ _Well, sometimes you come up with outlandish ideas like taking on a snow beast by yourself. Or you complain when I try to clean_ –”

“–Okay, got it,” Zeb interrupted, ignoring the soft laughter of Hobbie and Wes. “Listen to me now, though: we are never taking a long patrol like that again.”

 _“Oh, agreed._ ” Kallus still sounded amused. “ _Although if we can get a pelt, I’ll happily use it as a blanket, just on principle._ ”

Zeb couldn’t see Kallus’s snowspeeder, but he didn’t have to. He knew Kallus would have that almost-rakish, self-satisfied grin on his face.

He loved that grin. And if Kallus meant his ‘yes’, then Zeb would get to see it a lot more, for the rest of their lives.

If the Ashla was with them, that would be a very long time.


End file.
